Welcome Home
by BooniesBassist
Summary: Three years is a long time. And when that time is up, it's nice to come home. SkitteryOC. Oneshot. My grand re-debut on the Newsies Fanfic page after a writing hiatus of three years. Wow!


The cigarette started to warm my fingers as I watched two plumes of smoke slithering out of each end. I didn't smoke the rest of it, I just watched it burn. She never liked it when I smoked.

It was spring in New York. Not too hot, nor too cold so the cig burnt slowly. Before I scarred my fingertips, I dropped the remaining tobacco and paper to the ground not even caring to stamp it out. Little Tumbler picked it up, careful not to burn himself. I laughed at him as he tried to press his lips to the butt.

"I got anudda, Tumbla. Just ask." I blurted out as I watched him inhale a little too deeply. The boy spat and coughed as he threw the burning remains on the ground and viciously stamped them out.

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes, spitting into the collar of his faded orange shirt. "I dunno how you do it, Skitts."

I shrugged, having nothing more to say. After a few minutes, the child left me to myself. It only took mere moments for me to lose myself again. Today should have been like every other day, but it wasn't. It's be a whole three years since she left. Three whole years since I've seen her fucking blue eyes shining up at me with that smart ass smirk of hers. She said she'd visit. She said she'd write or send regards or whatever other shit she promised. Lying bitch. She never realized how much I hate her when she does that. Lies. She never realized how much I wanted to get a letter or notice or something. She never realized how much I never wanted her to go.

Things have changed, to say the least. The kids have grown up. Damn, Tumbler's nearly at teen now. I'm getting too old for the newspaper business. I don't sell as much anymore. I knew I'd never sell as much once I she left. I've been thinking about railway work. Being able to travel out west and work mindlessly for a few dollars, some food and a place to say sounded alright to me. Better than this living hell.

I told myself I'd give it one more winter. I still haven't told anyone my plans. Don't plan on it either. They'd just start spewing lies and shit about them needing me there. Bull shit. Even Tumbler's getting along fine without coming to find me every two hours. So I've decided I'm leaving soon. Winter's over and spring's in full bloom.

Don't get me wrong, I don't wanna do railway work. Working long hours in the hot sun doing the same mindless task over and over again, risking my life in the lesser traveled parts of the country.

But the more I think about it, though, the more I realize that there's absolutely nothing here for me anymore. Hell, I could leave tomorrow without any attachments at all. And once I get thinking, it's hard to stop. Every second that passed, the idea of leaving New York grew more persistent until I could barely sit still.

Standing abruptly, I scared a few pigeons that had been sharing the bench with me. With a long, but slouching stride, I headed towards Central Park. I knew where my feet were taking me, and I should've stopped them, but I couldn't.

And after a while, I stopped in front of a tree. Most of the bark was scrapped off due to the number of kids that attempted to climb it everyday. But the tree was a monster. Even Snapshot couldn't reach the highest branches.

I sat at the base of the old tree. I couldn't believe it. Three years was a long time. Where could she be right now? How did she look? Did she move on? Is she someone else's girl? Was she engaged? Married? All these thoughts polluted my mind as I buried my hands into my dirty matted mop of hair and stared at the dirt I sat upon.

"Holy shit."

I knew that voice.

Taking my hands out of my hair, I adjusted my hat before raising my eyes.

She stood in front of me like a dream: her hair a hot mess, but beautiful all the same, her eyes beaming down on me. Her fair skin slightly freckled from the early season sun she stood under day after day. I blushed and shook my head, rubbing my eyes. Wake up you dumb fuck. You can't bog yourself down with memories.

"Skittery if I knew the first person I'd see in Manhattan was you, I would prepared a few words or something."

I sat still, slumped against the tree, my cabby hat shading my eyes. I don't think I've ever felt so many emotions in my life. First things first, I wasn't dreaming. Secondly, the girl I fell in love with after she left was standing in front of me three years later. Thirdly, there I sat like a crazy person with black stained hands, unbrushed hair, dirty fingernails, mentally fucked up boy wearing that same pair of filthy pink sweat stained long johns she last saw me in. To say the least, I was a mess.

I squinted up at her. She was standing in the sun. And the first words that left my mouth really made me proud of how far I've come in life. "Snapshot, get outta the fuckin sun. You trying ta blind me or somethin?"

"Good to see you too, Skitts." She walked over and slid down the trunk of the tree, sitting next to me.

I was speechless and at times like these, I usually relied on her to blabber until things got fixed. But she didn't say a word.

The longest god awful minutes of my life passed before I heard her take a small breath. "How's da kids?"

"Tumbler hates cigarettes." I spat out the first thing that entered my mind in a mumble, but she could understand. She always did.

I saw her smile through the corner of my eye. "Dat's my boy."

My face was turning bright red, I was sure. "Hey Snap,"

"What?" She had turned her body fully towards me.

"I neva... I neva wanted you to... You know..."

She stopped me halfway before I bit my own tongue bloody. "I know Skitts, but I neva wanted ta settle down dat fast."

Nodding, I avoided eye contact. "I know."

More of the longest minutes in the history of man kind passed. She started with a stammer as her shaky hand reached for my knee. "Travelin's just as amazin as everyone made it out ta be. But it's good to see you. It's good to have a home."

I said nothing.

Her hand finally rested on my knee, but not for long as she took her hand back. Without thinking, I grabbed her hand back and held it between my two stained, calloused ones. "You know you neva would admit New York was your home." Were the words that finally left my lips.

"I ain't eva said New York was my home."

I almost said nothing, "It's not?"

"Na..." She sighed and looked up at the leaves. "You are."

And suddenly railway work didn't seem so bad after all.


End file.
